


dynamite with a laser beam (guaranteed to blow your mind)

by fancyfanstuff



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Emma's a fangirl, F/F, Flirting, Gay Bar, Horny flirting, It's a gay mess, It's called Sapphrodite which I find very cool, Regina's confused but also hella smooth, Uh there's a lot of flirting going on, Very horny flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyfanstuff/pseuds/fancyfanstuff
Summary: “Are you gay?”Apparently bluntness was the woman's strength, perception not so much. Emma blinked.“Duh...?"Emma hits on Regina in a gay bar. A lot of flirting ensues.Aka, the one where everyone is very horny. This applies, first and foremost, to myself.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 27
Kudos: 179





	dynamite with a laser beam (guaranteed to blow your mind)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!  
> So, I don't know how to explain how this story happened, so let me just say this: it's a pandemic and I run low on physical affection.  
> Anyway, you have been warned. And now, without further ado:  
> Enjoy this, stay at home, be safe.

Sweaty bodies. Too loud music. The smell of alcohol and smoke, mingling in the stuffy air between moving  people . Emma loved the Sapphrodite.

It had a special quality about it that few bars in town could provide. For one, it was, as the name suggested, mainly catering to a female clientele. Then there were the cheap prices on most liquor that didn't exploit Emma's wallet even if she got one or two pretty girls a drink. And lastly, there were the shows.

Music shows were the great passion of both Emma and Ruby, the Sapphrodite's latest – and flirtiest – co-owner. There was little they enjoyed as much as organizing a medium-big event like a tribute show to a high-achieving group of the 80s, pimping the bar with themed decoration, spreading word over social media and the old-fashioned flyers Emma swore on, and then opening the doors to groups and groups of hot queer women to sack the credit. 

In fact, Emma thought as she squeezed past a tall blonde whose dress might as well have been made of ice for its transp a r e ncy, there was nothing whatsoever she enjoyed as much. 

And the concert hadn't even started.

Bohemian Forever was the motto of today's music night, and Emma, a long-time Queen fan, had been looking forward to it for weeks now. Low beats of _I want to break free_ vibrated through the crowd, instrumental and innocuous for now, but Emma could feel the anticipation building in her already. The Sapphrodite's doors were permanently obscured by a continuous flood of new people, and the walls were lined with early birds such as Emma, who wouldn't miss any part of the evening.

She grinned and let her eyes sweep over the crowd. There were more than just a few ladies that made her skin prickle and her fingers twitch, but so far none of them radiated the kind of energy she was out after. Since it was the music show night of her all-time favourite band, Emma planned to share the experience with someone special.

The lights dimmed before Emma had finished her scan of the room, and Ruby's voice, metallic through the loudspeakers, sounded out.

“Welcome ladies and more ladies, to our monthly tribute night. Long have we waited, but finally it is here, the evening entirely devoted to one of the biggest, and inarguably best groups in music history. The only band where the names of all members grace a star in the songwriters walk of fame. The fourth best selling band ever, according to wikipedia – we know they deserve even better though!“

A few laughters rang out, and Ruby gave a smug smirk. Clad in a sparse red dress,  mesh tights, and high boots, she  was a  sight to  behold . It was too bad that Emma didn't  d o two-nighters, however far apart. 

“Ladies, this group around a queer icon, one of the first openly gay celebrities ever and also, tragically, a prominent victim of Aids, I'm of course talking about _Queen_!”

The crowd cheered, Emma whooped. Ruby threw her head back in a burst of laughter, exposing a throat that made several women in the room gulp. It was truly a pity that Ruby was on shift tonight, she would have gotten more than a few free drinks. O n the other hand, maybe Emma could score some of  them .

“I prepared to tell you more,” Ruby said onstage, “I really did!” She showed her notepad, which was perfectly blank. “But since I'm sure y'all can't wait to hit the dance floor, I won't keep you much longer. Ladies, without further ado, Queen!” 

At these words, the spotlight turned towards the gigantic disco ball on the ceiling, plunging the room into an explosion of colourful sparkles. The music swelled, a little at first as Freddie Mercury sang the first lines of _Don't_ _s_ _top_ _m_ _e_ _n_ _ow_ , before, right on cue, the volume was turned up in tact with the innuendo. More was not needed – the dance floor rapidly filled with people.

Emma smiled. She truly loved the acoustic of the club, how the sound vibrated through the wooden floorboards and into her body, how the walls were lined with comfy couches for non-dancers or those who needed a hydration break, how each and every person who bumped into Emma as she slowly made her way towards the bar to refill her glass was grinning widely.

“Fine speech, Rubes,” she said as an opener as she reached the counter. Ruby was already juggling six glasses and had more orders and bills thrown on a heap before her. She winked at Emma while simultaneously cashing a gorgeous black-haired woman.

“Flatteries don't get you a free refill Ems, at least not with me.”

Emma put an offended hand to her chest, “What, are you telling me I've been playing nice for naught?”

“Get yourself a lady, geez,” Ruby shot back. “Charm her, and let me do my work.”

“Not today. I'm here for the music, remember?”

Ruby poked out her tongue. “Riiight… Go enjoy the music somewhere else then.”

“Rude – no tip later,” Emma called back, already making her way through the crowd again, her body swinging in tact with the music.

It was true, she was mainly here for Queen. Ever since she'd turned thirteen, the same time she'd started figuring out her sexuality and experimenting with girls, Emma had loved Queen. Her foster family at that time had owned a record player and some vinyls. The Hot Space cover had fascinated young Emma and one afternoon, she had put on the record. It had been like learning to see after going through life blind. Except she hadn't known she was blind, hadn't realized what she was missing out on. Not until Freddie Mercury's voice had filled her ears with music and her heart with… well, women.

Life had become better then. And later worse, then much worse, and even now she was still struggling with more than she would wish on anyone else. But throughout the bad times, through the crises and heartbreaks, Queen had accompanied her. There was a song for every mood, a line for every pain. Listening to Queen made Emma feel understood in a way talking to other people rarely did. And damn, she had been looking forward to this night.

It was a good thing Emma hadn't gotten a drink yet. The music quickly got a hold of her and by the time she had crossed the room once, she was already more dancing than walking. She had come to have a good time and she wouldn't go before she'd got it. Slipping into her Queen mindset, the one where she ceased thinking with her brain and started living with her heart and body only, Emma let herself go.

* * *

Over an hour later, Emma's tight pink dress was stuffy with sweat, both hers and that of various other people brushing against her in tact with the beat. Her feet had begun to hurt in her heels just enough that a break sounded tempting, and her throat was parched for a drink. _Love of my life_ was playing, a song Emma didn't really know how to dance to anyway, and so she decided to take a short break from the action and pay Ruby another visit.

The club was  so  overcrowded by now that Ruby hardly had a smile to share with her as she handed Emma a large bourbon whiskey and turned towards her next customer. Emma took  the glass,  relishing the wet-cold  sensation  of conde n sation against her fingertips, and wandered to settle down  on  a stool close to the bar. The couches, which she would have preferred, were all occupied by couples, and probably a few strangers too, making out to the sweet notes of the son g.  Emma grinned and left them to their business. A stool would do.

Besides, and she noticed so with a delighted smile before her pokerface slid into place, the seat next to her was taken by a very, _very_ , beautiful woman, who sat swirling a glass of red wine like a fucking diva. Her dark hair was glossy enough to reflect the dancing lights of the disco ball, and Emma very much wanted to run her fingers through it to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

“Hi there, beautiful,” she said instead, donning a breezy smile, “How do you do?”

The woman looked up, dark eyes giving Emma a full sweep as her mouth twisted into, what, a frown? “Me?”

Emma grinned. “Who else, have you looked into a mirror lately?”

The woman's eyes narrowed and she lowered her glass. In a flash of light, Emma could make out a faint scar on her upper lip. Fuck, Emma really had a weakness for scars.

“Thank you?” The woman sounded questioning.

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry, was that too direct? I didn't meet to make you uncomfortable, my brain doesn't really work around, well...” She gestured up and down the woman, who was wearing an exceptionally fine black dress with just enough cleavage to make Emma's heartbeat speed up.

This time she could totally make out a faint blush on the woman's cheeks. Emma smirked, a move that apparently took the woman off guard. She wrinkled her brow.

“Are you hitting on me?”

The question came so suddenly, Emma couldn't even come up with a witty reply. Her eyebrows shot up.

“… Uh, yeah.”

To Emma's growing confusion, the woman's brow furrowed further, but not in annoyance, rather... curiosity.

“Are you gay?”

Apparently bluntness was the woman's strength, perception not so much. Emma blinked.

“Duh...? I mean what did you expect at the Sapphrodite?”

Realisation finally dawned on the woman's face, a brief understanding and then an immediate clouding of her gaze. She murmured something under her breath that sounded vaguely like “I'm going to kill…” but Emma couldn't be sure.

“Excuse me?” She said, when the woman didn't make a move to explain herself. “Should I be worried about someone's life?”

“What? Oh. Oh no, it's just, my sister recommended this club to me. I should have known there was a catch to it.”

It was Emma's turn to wrinkle her brow. “You mean, you didn't come because of the awesome music and hot women?”

The woman threw her a disconcerted look that quickly transformed into something more like amusement.

“Is that what you are here for?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda? Like... who doesn't enjoy a good night out with gorgeous women around?”

The woman didn't seem to have a reply to that, so Emma took a sip from her drink and added, “Please tell me you're at least a Queen fan, if you're not gay.”

“Never said I wasn't,” the woman corrected, watching curiously as Emma struggled not to choke on her drink all too obviously. “And of course I enjoy Queen, who doesn't.”

“Right?” Emma said, having caught herself again, “I don't get how anyone would… wait.” She looked up. Familiar tunes were reaching her ear, and Emma perked up. “I need to get back to the dance floor. Now. This is my absolute favourite song and I'll legit die if I don't dance to it.”

And with that said, she pulled the woman with her towards the  dance floor .

“Hey,” a protest reached her ear, but she paid it no mind, just pulling the stranger closer to her.

“You hear that?” She screamed against the sound of _Hammer to fall._ “This is music straight from the heavens. And I don't even believe in the heavens.”

The woman's eyes crinkled around the edges as she smiled, rolling her eyes even while joining Emma in her dance with a slight sway of her own hips.

“You owe me a drink later,” she replied, gesturing back to where their chairs at the counter were already occupied by new people.

“Is that an order?” Emma asked back, “Or a pickup line?”

With a twist of her waist, the woman suddenly angled her mouth towards Emma's ear. Her voice was low but somehow still very understandable as she murmured, “Depends on what you make of it…”

* * *

_Hammer to fall_ bled into  _Somebody to love_ faded away into  _Fat-bottomed girls_ , and it wasn’t until the dull bass of  _Under pressure_ pulsed through Emma’s body that the woman  took a measured step back from where she’d  moved dangerously close into Emma’s dance space. 

“I think I will sit this one out,” she said, barely raising her voice, yet it was clearly audible over the thump of the music. “I don’t particularly care for Bowie.”

H er tone, casual to a fault, did barely give an opening, and yet it was in that uber-careful casualness that Emma found the hint she was listening for.

“He is alright,” she shrugged – she could do casual too – and followed the woman off the dance floor as if she had always meant to. The satisfied curl of the woman’s lip as she led the way towards the couches wasn’t lost on her.

“So, now that we’ve done the introductory dancing,” Emma said, when they’d successfully shooed away a couple of college kids making out on Emma’s favourite sofa in the corner, “Will you tell me your name?”

The woman, barely perching on the outermost corner of the couch as if it was contaminated,shot her an amused glance.

“I have been told my name was very fitting. You have three tries.”

Emma’s brows shot up. “Seriously? You wanna do this the fairy tale way?”

“I give you a hint,” the woman smirked, edging minimally further onto the couch to lean in close. “It is not Rumplestiltskin, but it does start with an R.”

Emma let out a laugh that  painted a way too smug smile on the woman’s face. Oh, she was enjoying this. Fortunately, so was Emma.

“Challenge accepted,” she grinned, dragging her eyes over the rigid posture, the dress she was pretty sure was designer, the towering heels that the woman still appeared to be surprisingly nimble in. “Loser buys the next round.”

The woman’s eyes darkened imperceptibly. “Deal. Although you still owe me that first drink – are you sure your wallet can stomach two Merlots?”

“Merlot? That’s what you’re going with… Rachel?”

“Wrong,” the woman said gleefully, her aversion to the couch seemingly forgotten, “And not all of us are unrefined whiskey-drinkers.”

“So you’ve been paying attention... Ramona!”

“Wrong again, though slightly warmer. Last chance.”

Emma, feeling flushed and giddy at their trading barbs, allowed her eyes to flicker to the woman’s lips. They looked full and inviting in their ruby-red glory, parted in a teasing smile.

“What will it be?” The woman asked, in a low voice, and Emma knew, then, that she wanted to take this woman home. She only had to play it right. And though she longed to lean in, to bridge the last few inches separating their mouths, she knew that taking it slow would reward her in the end. So she pulled back, watching the faintest line appear on the woman’s forehead at her retreat.

“I think…” Emma then said, dragging out the pause until she could detect a flicker of impatience in the woman’s narrowed eyes, “… that I deserve another hint.”

There was a carefully measured pause, and then Emma added: “Please.”

It was a wager. Not only because Emma couldn’t tell for sure if that was a word that held any weight to the woman, but also because she had to make it clear that it did h o ld weight to Emma. In only one syllable,  she had to convey a multitude of  layers , and that to a woman who’d stumbled into a bar called the Sapphrodite without realising what that  implied . 

Emma waited with bated breath, one second, two seconds, while around her, the song faded out in staccato “pressure”s.

Then, just when Emma thought she couldn’t take it any longer, that she had to say a third random name on R, Roxanne, or maybe Roni, the woman smiled.

“Oh, you are good,” she said, and although Emma tried her hardest not to release her breath all too audibly, the self-satisfied expression on the woman’s features sang of failure. “You are good, and therefore I shall grant your request.”

“Gee, thanks, Your Majesty.” Emma rolled her eyes. And if her heart fluttered at the words, so what, she’d pretty much laid all her cards on the table anyway by now.

The woman smirked. “Funny that you should say that. It makes for an excellent second hint.”

“No it doesn’t,” Emma protested, “what kind of hint is that supposed to be?”

“My name,” came the amused reply, “is Queen. Literally.”

Emma frowned. “That doesn’t start with an R.”

That drew a laugh out of the woman, a low chuckle that did things to Emma's ovaries. “Not in English, you dummy. But try Italian and you've got it.”

“Do I look like I know Italian?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “It's Regina.”

Emma grinned sheepishly. “Right. Nice to meet you, Regina.” It was a very fitting name indeed, she thought, regal and proud, just like Regina's posture as she graced Emma with another smile.

“And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, I'm Emma,” Emma said. “Emma Swan.”

“How quaint.” Regina smiled smugly. “So would Miss Swan mind buying me that drink she promised?”

“You know, technically I haven’t gotten my three guesses,” Emma pointed out, though she was already standing up.

“No Italian, no third try,” Regina shrugged, somehow managing to make reclining back into the couch look graceful. “Now, you better hurry, because otherwise we’ll never get around to that _second_ drink you owe me.”

“Right,” Emma grumbled, “Merlot it is?”

“Merlot it is.”

* * *

“What happened to being here for the music?” Ruby welcomed Emma back to the counter with a grin. Despite having worked the bar for almost two hours now, her white blouse was spotless and her hair in immaculate curls. 

“What brand of hairspray do you use, Rubes?” Emma diverted the question, shooting an apologetic smile at a girl who offered her a stool. “Not today, hon.” 

Ruby lifted an eyebrow as she placed the bourbon before Emma.  “ Ouidad, you know that. What does your lady friend take?”

“Me, hopefully,” Emma smirked, giving up the charade that had never been working anyway. “But for now, a Merlot.” 

T he laugh that Ruby barfed out was loud enough to momentarily  drown out  _Bicycle race_ . “ You picked up a wine gal? Emma,  are you growing up at last? ” 

“If she heard you calling her gal, she’d probably rip your heart out, you know.”

“Sexy,” Ruby commented, then leaned in closer, her eyes dancing with mirth, “What’s her name?”

“Regina.” Emma slid her friend a fiver in exchange for the tall wine glass. “Apparently, that means Queen.”

Again, Ruby laughed. “ Then you better get back to Her Majesty before she stabs me with one of th os e razor glares.”

Emma swivelled around. Indeed, Regina was watching them from across the room, her face just discernible enough in the low lights to make out the displeasure in her expression. When she caught Emma’s gaze, she didn’t look away but instead held it with an intensity that made something deep down in Emma’s stomach flutter with anticipation.

“Later, Rubes,” she hissed, grabbing her drinks while never breaking eye contact with Regina, “I’ll be back.”

R uby’s honeyed “have fun” only registered peripherally  as she wove her way back through the crowds.

R egina greeted her with a blazing look and a  chilly “ That took a while.” The discrepancy between tone and appearance was enough to give Emma whiplash, but like, the good kind. She chuckled, willing the rising heat in her body to keep from showing in her cheeks.

“Jealous much?”

“Problem with that?” Regina immediately shot back, and suddenly her hand was on Emma’s, fingers brushing against her knuckles as they curled around the docile stem of the wine glass.

Emma wetted her lips. She could have sworn Regina had telepathically found out about her resolve to take this slow, or maybe she had good instincts. Either way, she was clearly set on making this very hard for Emma. The clueless woman who’d marched into a gay bar because her sister had recommended it to her was far gone, and while a small part of Emma mourned the advantage of habit that had given her, every other part of her was perfectly happy to succumb to this new Regina’s expertise. 

“You can let go of the glass now, Miss Swan.”

Emma blinked. Lost in her reverie, she’d completely forgotten about the wine glass she was subsequently still clinging too, and the dark shade of Regina’s eyes had shifted back to their customary amusement in response. Emma  cleared her throat , forcing herself to pull back her hand with slow nonchalance. 

“You could at least say Thank You, you know,” she pointed out. “You may have won this gamble, but the night is still young. Civility might be worth investing in.”

Regina arched one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and took a measured sip of wine.

“And here I thought we’d forego social conventions tonight.”

“Oh,” Emma said, and while she’d meant to follow up on that with a witty line, a flirty line, any kind of line, she somehow found that she couldn’t come up with one. 

“Oh,” she therefore repeated, somewhat dumbly, and then she drank half her whiskey in one go, while Regina flashed her a satisfied smirk.

* * *

“That’s it,” Emma burst out, more than half an hour later. Half an hour, in which she had duly watched Her Majesty Regina, last name still unknown, darken her lips layer by layer with every painfully slow sip of wine she took. Half an hour, in which Emma’s whiskey-high had kicked in and tailed away, like an afternoon breeze in early autumn, without her daring to leave to get a refill. Half an hour, in which she and Regina had barely exchanged more than a couple of shallow comments about the songs that were playing, one after another, providing an arbitrary soundtrack to the tension unfolding between them. Half an hour of waiting, which would have had Emma dump Regina three times over, if it weren’t for the perpetually fiery gaze Regina had fixed her under every time Emma chanced a look at her. 

Half an hour of Emma’s panties growing damp  under her skirt, and Regina watching her as if she knew.

“That’s what?”

Her voice, deep and husky from the wine, sent shivers down Emma’s back.  She’d had no idea what to say when she’d broken their silence in the first place, but Regina’s confident purr had scrambled every last cohesive thought in her mind. Inadvertently, her eyes dropped to Regina’s lips. 

“I…” she began, ready to throw caution to the wind and just kiss Regina, promises to take it slow be damned, when Ruby’s voice over the loudspeakers stopped her in her tracks.

“The next song is for Her Majesty, Regina,” she shouted from the stage, throwing a cheeky wink in Emma’s direction. “I want to see her and everyone else on the dance floor. We’re all queens tonight, so let’s _kill it, girls_!” 

The overmodulation of the final squeal drowned out the first seconds of the song, but Emma didn’t need to hear the iconic snapping to know what tune was playing.  A smile spread on her face. Resolving to thank Ruby for the last-minute save later, she all but jumped up.

“You heard the girl, let’s dance!”

Regina, though visibly  recovering from the surprise to hear her name mentioned , narrowed her eyes.

“Miss Swan,” she tutted, daintily putting down her empty wine glass on the side table, “this won’t do. A little more dedication to the task, if you please.”

Emma rolled her eyes, then  extend ed a mockingly gallant hand to Regina .

“May I have this dance, my queen?”

Regina  smirked,  finally  allowing herself to be pulled  to her feet . “ Better.” And then, pulling Emma closer until their bodies were flush against each other and Emma  could feel the heat of her breath against her neck , she added: “ Though I do wonder how that barkeep knew my name and favourite song .”

“ _Killer Queen_ is your favourite?” Emma murmured, thoroughly preoccupied with keeping her hands from wandering all over Regina’s delicious curves. “Why am I not surprised?”

The chuckle Regina released vibrated through Emma’s chest as if it were her own.

“So you didn’t know that beforehand?” Her mouth hovered close enough to the skin below Emma’s left ear that it almost counted as a phantom kiss. 

“Which means you couldn’t tell it to your waitress friend, along with my name.” Emma held her breath as the phantom touch wandered to the curve of her neck.

“Which means she figured it out all by herself.” Jawline. Emma’s hands quivered, but somehow she managed to keep her head still.

“Which means,” Regina all but breathed, her lips lingering a mere whisper before Emma’s, “that I should probably thank _her_.”

E mma swallowed. “Or,” she croaked out, willing her voice not to tremble, “you could thank  _me_ , and I can pass it on to her later.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that thought. After all, I’m not sure friends are supposed to do this.” Regina brushed her lips over Emma’s, a feather-light touch that made Emma’s skin tingle and her hands itch with inaction. “And you are friends, aren’t you. Nothing more?”

“Nothing more,” Emma echoed, every ounce of self-restraint in her body fighting the urge to lean closer, to press her lips just that little bit more against Regina’s mouth. 

“Good,” Regina mused, and when she pulled back, Emma thought she would cry. “But the problem remains that I have no real reason to thank _you_.” 

“Yes, you do,” Emma protested, racking her brain for something, _anything_ , she had done. And then she remembered. “Yes you do, because I organised this event.”

“Oh?” Regina sounded genuinely intrigued, but Emma only cared for her lips, which had thankfully moved closer again.

“Yeah,” she rushed on, “Ruby and I organise these music shows together, but Queen was my idea.”

“It was?”

“It so was,” Emma affirmed, and then she couldn’t hold back any longer. With a twist of her hips and a tilt of her head, she invaded Regina’s dance space and kissed her deeply. Like, hand-in-her-hair, tongue-in-her-mouth deeply, while Regina was kissing her back as if this was what she’d come for all along. 

I t was only when the howling guitars announced the end of  _Killer Queen_ that Regina pulled back, her cheeks flushed a delightful pink, her pupils dilated even in the blinding lights. Emma surely didn’t look much better.

“Wow,” she said, after she’d regained her breath and the shrill initial seconds of _Play the Game_ had passed. “That was…”

“I should go,” Regina broke in, her voice curiously shaky in a way that would have Emma feel smug if she weren’t reeling from the words. 

“What?”

But Regina didn’t seem inclined to answer. Without even glancing at Emma, she was disentangling herself from the embrace, straightening her dress, and turning away to leave. It all happened so fast, Emma had barely opened her mouth to protest when Regina was already weaving through the dancing crowd, a last  “Bye, Emma”  the only thing left lingering behind.

“No, wait, hold on,” Emma stammered, fumbling to get her senses together enough to follow Regina on her way out. Her lips were still burning from the kisses they’d exchanged, yet Emma felt as if somebody had dunked a bucket full of freezing water over her.

“Regina, wait,” she called. Several women gave her sidelong glances as she pushed past them, probably looking like a lunatic with her hair in disarray and lipstick smudges around her mouth. Emma paid them no mind. Regina was nearly at the door now, and Emma had no intention to let her walk out of the bar and her life forever. Not like this. Not without getting an explanation why a kiss that had pulled the rug out from under Emma’s feet had resulted in such a dramatically opposite reaction in Regina. 

Because that had to be it. Regina’d hated the kiss, hated the feel of Emma’s mouth on hers as much as Emma’d enjoyed it. Maybe she wasn’t into women after all, and Emma had been misreading the mood all along.  Or maybe she was, but Emma wasn’t her type, and she’d only realised it now, while kissing her. Maybe she despised the taste of whiskey so much that the traces of it on Emma’s tongue had put her off. Maybe…

Or maybe she had enjoyed the kiss. Maybe she’d enjoyed it too much. Maybe, and the thought made Emma redouble her efforts to speed through the crowd, maybe she was in the closet. Maybe Emma’s rashness, and her initiative, her pressing, had made Regina uncomfortable because she was suddenly faced with a whole new identity. Maybe Emma had pushed her off a cliff, and she wasn’t ready for the fall yet.

Emma cursed her  own  impatience.  She should have stuck to taking it slow.  As per usual, her intuition about a woman had been right. And as per usual, Emma had been too swept up in the moment to listen to it. 

“And that’s the price you pay for it,” she murmured to herself, before she threw her body forward in a desperate lunge, just as Regina opened the door.

Or, that had been the plan. The plan that didn’t take Emma’s  pink dress into account, which stretched infinitesimally around her thighs before it  tightened. 

Inertia felled her like a tree.

Regina caught her when Emma was already preparing for stars.  Her hands came out of nowhere, closing around Emma’s flailing arms with surprising  accuracy, magically breaking her fall, so that instead of kissing the floor, Emma suddenly found herself eye to eye with Regina’s chest.

She averted her gaze with all the modesty she didn’t feel and forced herself to look up. Regina’s face displayed the most beautiful melange of emotions Emma had ever seen. The planes of her cheeks burned a self-conscious red, her eyes were wide with shock, her brow crinkled  in confusion, and yet her lips betrayed an amused smirk. Emma, breathless all of a sudden, grinned weakly.

“So we meet again.”

F or a second, Regina looked like she wanted to cry. Then she bit her lip and suddenly her face was a mask, carefully plain and void of all expression. 

“Miss Swan, what do you think you’re doing?”

E mma’s eyebrows rose almost of their own accord. Yes, she’d planned to apologise. Yes, she’d been full of good intentions and virtue when she’d run after Regina. But there was something in this woman, something in the cadence of her voice and the tilt of her head, that rendered Emma entirely unable not to flirt.

“Miss Swan?” She echoed, and oh, she might have regretted the words, if not for the delicious glint in Regina’s eyes, practically daring her to continue. “So I’m only Emma when we make out?”

The shadow of a smirk flashed over Regina’s lips.  “ Unless you prefer Miss Swan then as well.”

Emma couldn’t help herself, her jaw dropped. Three hours of samples, and she was still caught unawares every time Regina dropped a line like this. A shiver ran through her body, so violent that she worried Regina might feel it, and her mouth suddenly felt like it had been blow-dried.

“Well,” she croaked, too focused on the bordeaux shade of Regina’s lips to feel embarrassed over how breathless she sounded, “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Regina’ s grip around  Emma’s arms  tightened almost painfully. 

“Emma…” Her voice was strained, yet she drifted forward, her forehead now almost touching Emma’s.

“Emma what?”

Regina exhaled,  a  teasing puff of air against Emma’s mouth  that made her eyes flutter shut .  Their lips were close, so close that she could feel rather than hear the words.

“I should really get going…”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

Regina huffed a  sigh , but it came out as a moan. Her eyes, longing as they’d been before, were flat-out clouded with hunger now, and when  she drew back,  her fingers lingered . 

Emma barely registered all of that. For the second time in one night, this woman had gone from hundred to zero, and Emma for one couldn’t keep up.

“Hold the fuck on,” she said, too befuddled even to relish the gasp Regina released at the curse. “Timeout. Let’s pause the flirting and be honest for a second here.” She pointed at Regina, whose eyes were wide and unreadable. “Are you uncomfortable with kissing a woman? Cause it’s okay if you are, I won’t be mad or anything, we can just go back to the bar, I buy you that second merlot, and we finish the night as friends. Or strangers, if that’s what you need to be comfortable. Or acquaintances. Or – ” 

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Regina interrupted, putting her hand back on Emma’s arm in what was probably meant to be a soothing manner. Unfortunately, it only served to make Emma lose her train of thoughts.

“B-but,” she stuttered, hating her eyes for zeroing in on Regina’s fingers, long and tan against her skin. “But what is it then? Is this a game to you? Do you have a kink for withholding? Are you,” she gasped, “Oh god, are you married?!”

“What? No!” Regina exclaimed, blushing when several heads turned their way, then repeating more quietly, “No, Emma, I’m neither in a relationship, nor do I have questionable sources of arousal.” She paused. “None that we haven’t already discussed, that is…” 

“Regina,” Emma all but pleaded, willing herself not to squirm under Regina’s hand, “I’m serious. If it isn’t either of these things, then what is holding you back? Is it _me_ , or…?”

R egina’s mouth was on hers in a flash, hot and hungry and sudden enough to make Emma gasp in surprise.  Although she’d meant to pull away after the first clash, determined to get her answers first, that resolve vaporised  so quickly under Regina’s lips, Emma doubted it had been there to begin with.

If kissing Regina had been  the first taste of an unknown drug , being kissed by her was like  getting a fix after a long period of withdrawal.  The high chased through Emma’s veins, tingling along her nerves, shaking her awake, until Emma’s entire being seemed to funnel into her lips. She felt simultaneously starved for more and overwhelmed with what already was, and it didn’t make a difference, because Regina cared little for either. 

A nd then it was over. 

Regina retreated as suddenly as she’d attacked, her mouth ravaging in one moment, gone the next. Her hand, which had come up to cup Emma’s cheek at some point during the kiss, slipped off her face and under her chin like a whisper.

“Never,” she said, tightening her grip until Emma met her gaze, “Think that it is you.”

“Okay,” was all the reply Emma could muster, and when Regina’s fingers fell away for good, she felt the loss as if it were a presence. 

F ortunately, Regina seemed to think along similar lines, because before her hand had fully withdrawn, the other one already snaked around Emma’s waist. The thought of leaving appeared to have vanished along with  all trace of hesitation .

“I tell you what,” she said. Her eyes raked over Emma’s body in a way that regenerated the tingling sensation under her skin, and when she lifted a finger to pensively wipe away a smudge of lipstick in the corner of Emma’s mouth, Emma, to her horror, felt herself blushing.

“What?” She murmured, furiously willing her face to stop embarrassing her. But it was too late, Regina had already zeroed in on her burning cheeks, and judging by the shit-eating grin that was forming on her lips, the red was all too visible despite the low lights.

“Tell me what?” She repeated, a little defiantly maybe, which only enforced the smug glint in Regina’s eyes. Emma groaned. 

“If you keep being this uncooperative,” she pointed out, “I might pull a you, and leave.”

Regina’s smirk widened a fraction. Her hand, still at Emma’s waist, twitched once as if by accident, and then once more, to  confirm Emma’s suspicion that it was, in fact, very deliberate. 

“I doubt that you would do that.” 

“Try me.”

“Believe me.” Regina pursed her lips. “I’m planning to.”

Emma couldn’t help it. She missed a beat, distracted both by the implications and Regina’s hand, which was slowly but surely moving lower. Belatedly she said: “Bold of you to assume I’ll let you.”

Regina breathed a laugh, rich even in its  quietness. 

“Bold,” she murmured, angling her head until her mouth hovered over Emma’s earlobe, “or right?” And she squeezed, just below Emma’s hipbone.

The moan Emma released was  barely strangled enough to be drowned out by the music.  It was a miracle that she even found the wit to come up with an answer, let alone a coherent one.

“How about you tell me what you wanted to tell me, and we agree on both?”

Regina’s chuckle reverberated against Emma’s pulse point  as she made her way down to her collarbone, leaving whispers of kisses in her wake.

“You’re in no position to negotiate, Miss Swan” – at this, Emma suppressed a whimper – “but maybe I’ll humour you. If _you_ would finally get me that Merlot you keep promising.”

“Are you for real?” Emma whined, then caught herself at the very stern look Regina gave her. “I mean, yeah, sure. Why don’t you wait for me at the couches…”

Regina smirked. “ Good girl.”

Emma was surprised she reached the bar without falling flat on her face after that.

* * *

Ruby took one look at her and collapsed in laughter.

“Oh, shut it, will you?” Emma glanced over her shoulder, watching Regina stride towards the couches. The crowd parted around her like peasants at the visit of their queen, respectful and perhaps a little terrified. Something deep inside Emma throbbed. 

“You are blushing,” Ruby said gleefully. 

It took Emma an enormous amount of strength to turn around. She grabbed the wine glass Ruby slid her way.

“Fuck you, Rubes.”

And she all but sprinted back.

If half of her wine had landed on the floor, Regina didn’t seem to care. In fact, she barely glanced at  the glass twice before she put it on the side table and pulled Emma down in her lap. 

“I tell you what,” she murmured, one hand draped possessively over Emma’s thighs, while the other went into Emma’s hair, dragging her head back just sharply enough to make Emma hiss with pleasure. “I might just thank my sister for making me come here. Even though,” she littered a line of hungry kisses down Emma’s neck, “that means losing a bet. I don’t particularly like losing,” her teeth scraped along the column of Emma’s throat, “but I trust it’ll be worth it.” She bit down into the soft flesh just beneath Emma’s jawline, humming at the garbled moan Emma released. “Won’t it?”

Emma felt like a very elaborate “hnggg” was the only reply Regina could be expecting at this point. Her heart was going a million miles per minute, and if Regina’s hand on her legs moved but an inch higher, it would be to hell with the Sapphrodite’s “No sex in the bar during opening hours” policy.  Besides, Ruby had apparently fraternised with the DJ again, because _Get down, make love_ was playing, and if that wasn’t asking for it then Emma didn’t know.

“You made a bet with your sister that you wouldn’t thank her?” She still made an effort to continue the conversation, but then Regina’s tongue swept over her lower lip and Emma’s concept of words vanished. 

“Hnggg,” she made, despite her best intentions, and delved into the kiss with Regina. Her hands, hitherto kept to herself in the fear that once she started touching Regina, she wouldn’t be able to stop, started wandering on their own accord, snaking around Regina’s neck and into her hair, which was exactly as silky as it looked. When Regina sighed in response, Emma took it as a sign to explore further, and she traced Regina’s curves almost reverently until Regina quivered and pulled away. 

“Actually,” she said, to Emma’s gratification sounding almost as breathless as she herself felt, “I made a bet I wouldn’t spend the night at somebody else’s place.”

Emma leaned in again to plant kisses on Regina’s eagerly exposed neck, one, two, a whole line of them until Regina was panting under her.  “So we go to yours?” 

“Can’t,” was Regina’s reply, deliciously clipped while she was arching into Emma’s touch. “She’s staying over.”

Given their current state, Emma privately thought that it was doubtful they could make it to any place that was more than a few minutes away anyway. Regina’s fingers had begun making a beeline for the edge of Emma’s dress, while Emma was in turn coming dangerously close to the centre of Regina’s v-shaped neckline with her lips. Both of them had long ago stopped caring about the  raggedness of the couch or the abundance of people around them.

“Bummer,” Emma breathed into Regina’s cleavage, and then, not allowing herself to think twice about it, she added: “Bathrooms?”

“Bathrooms?” Exclaimed Regina, much as Emma’d expected, but the indignation in her voice was smouldered by a moan when Emma’s fingers roamed over her chest. Her own hand had reached Emma’s hemline and was lingering there until Emma thought she might cry if it didn’t continue on its path. 

“Please,” she whispered, more to the hand than to Regina herself, but apparently that was all the incentive Regina needed. A shiver rippled through her, violent enough that Emma felt the reverberation in her own body, and then Regina was pushing her off her lap. 

“Okay go,” she hissed, “Go, go.” 

Not that Emma needed to be told twice. 

As she stumbled towards the neon signs, Regina’s hand urgently pressed against the small of her back, she caught Ruby’s eye.  The bartender winked at her.

_ Coming soon _ started playing just when Regina locked the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @fancyfanstuff :)


End file.
